


Dramatic Reenactment

by LoudLucy



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudLucy/pseuds/LoudLucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim invites Kon over to Wayne Manor to enjoy the fall colors, but they walk in on a little surprise.  It all goes downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dramatic Reenactment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tumblr's [TimKon Week 2015](http://timkonweek.tumblr.com/)  
> Sunday Prompt: "It All Started with the Big Bang" ;)

Autumn is the best season.

Tim had always thought so.  The American Northeast in general was simply beautiful in the months of September and October. One day it’s late summer and then, the next morning, when the air is sufficiently crisp and cool, and the sun had set sufficiently early the night before, the world wakes up red and orange and yellow and beautiful. 

That’s one of Tim’s favorite things about the season—he never knows exactly when it’ll start.  People will begin talking about it weeks in advance—“it smells like fall,” they’ll say, “the leaves will start to change soon.” Tim will start predicting the season too; he’ll begin planning for fall things—sweaters, warm drinks, Halloween—and then he’ll step outside, hear the familiar crunch of leaves under his feet, see that more of the oaks bordering the manor’s long, winding driveway are scarlet than not, and realize, “oh, fall’s already here.” 

He always smiles when it happens, feeling old, remembering all the other years that the whole world changed colors while he wasn’t paying attention. 

If fall in the northeast was good, then fall in Gotham was better. And if fall in Gotham was better, than fall at Wayne Manor was the absolute _best_. Frankly, Tim felt sorry for anyone who had to live in any other part of the country because they were seriously, seriously missing out. Which is why, out of the absolute goodness of his heart, Tim decided to invite his poor, unfortunate, pig-farming, corn-husking, rural-Midwestern farm-boy friend Kon to stay over in Gotham for the weekend. 

Tim felt sorry for Kon.  That was almost definitely the _only_ reason he invited Kon instead of anyone else.

After all, there were a few nice, deciduous trees on the Kent farm, but one tiny cluster of forest does not an acceptable autumn make. Plus, judging by Kon’s excited—and almost relieved—tone of voice when he accepted Tim’s invitation, Tim kind of felt like once a person did October in Smallville once, repeating it lost its appeal pretty quickly. 

Anyway, the date was set, approval was received, and Tim had spent the last three days prepping and planning for Kon’s arrival. Tim didn’t feel _excited_ , exactly—he wasn’t bouncing around or filled with anxious, nervous energy.  In fact, it was the opposite; he felt a calm contentment, like home was about to become homier, like relaxing with his best friend might assuage the usual restless energy and perfectionism that kept him up at night.

Peace and quiet. Usually, Tim would plan things to do if he had a friend visiting Gotham, but since it was Kon, he was looking forward to _chilling_ , maybe with a mug of hot chocolate on the Manor’s best patio, maybe with a videogame or a movie in the living room, but just _comfortable silence_. Apart from Alfred, he and Kon were going to have the manor to themselves.  There was no Bruce, and even better, no _Damian_ to bother them, which was just _perfect_.

So fine, maybe Tim was a little bit excited. He and Kon were going to be practically alone _all weekend_. And it wasn’t like he had anything in _particular_ in mind, but he wasn’t ruling anything out either, if something were to finally happen...

Tim was finishing making his bed—the final step in his slightly haphazard clean up of his favorite haunts in the manor—when the doorbell rang.  He sprinted down the long, upstairs hallway toward the foyer, socked-feet pleasantly thumping against the warm, Persian rugs that covered the dark-wood floors. Tim skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs when he realized that, as per usual, Alfred had managed to get to the front door pretty much before he could even blink.

“…if you would please remove your boots, Master Kent,” Alfred was saying, upper lip lifting in disgust at the mud that was caked on the bottom of Kon’s shoes.

“‘Master Kent’ is my dad, kind of,” Kon joked lamely, using the toe of one motorcycle boot to hold down the heel of the other as he wriggled his foot out of it.  “Call me Kon, or Conner, whichever you like better.”

Tim finished his descent down one of the foyer’s double staircases as Kon finished wrestling the other boot off his foot and handing it to Alfred.  “Hey man,” Tim greeted, taking in his friend’s unusually ruddy cheeks and messy clothes and the bright afternoon sun behind him. The collar of his red flannel shirt was rumpled, the left side flipped up while the right side was down. The only thing that looked right was the worn leather jacket that covered Kon’s shoulders, even Kon’s black locks were all over the place, loose waves sticking out in random directions.   Tim smirked.  “Was it windy up there?”

Kon furrowed his brow, processing, and then with a flash of realization, reached up to his hair.  His face grew just a little bit pinker as he tried to flatten it back into place.  “Nice deduction, smartass,” Kon jibed. “Next time _you_ fly faster than a 747, I’d like to see the state of _your_ dumbass hair.”

Tim just shrugged as he leaned over to pick up Kon’s duffel bag.  “I probably would never get the knots out,” he admitted.  There was a reason he wore a cowl over his hair; tangles were a hassle, and bugs could be an absolute _bitch_.

The door to the parlor quietly _thunked_ closed behind Tim, signaling that Alfred had left the room, no doubt to remove the dirt from Kon’s shoes before it could do any further damage to the antique carpets.  A sudden jolt of electricity coursed through Tim’s veins when he realized that he and Kon were almost completely _alone_ already—only two out of three souls in this oversized house.  _We could sneak away to some random room and it would take Alfred ages to fi—_

Tim blinked and then coughed awkwardly.  “Should I show you where to put your stuff?” He asked, trying to dispel his odd thought.

“Yeah,” Kon frowned, scratching the back of his head absently and staring at the giant crystal chandelier above them with just a little bit of apprehension.  “And then maybe point me to the nearest mirror.  I don’t think I can afford to look this slack in a place like this.”

 

***

 

“I don’t think Alfred likes me very much,” Kon confessed as the door to the patio shut behind them.   This was one of Tim’s favorite spots on the whole property.  It was located on the east side of the house, sort of near the master suite. It was a secluded spot, nestled between three walls of the house, but it still managed to have an excellent view of the rolling green lawns and gardens of the estate. The small forest at the edge of the Wayne’s land was a bright blaze of red, brown and orange set below the Gotham City skyline.  A brisk breeze blew through the old yellow maple that stood adjacent to the brick pavers and made Tim clutch his hot chocolate mug tighter.  

“He’s always like that,” Tim responded with a small smile over the rim of his mug. The air was cold, but the hot drink moving down his throat was warm, and Tim felt way too happy with the sensation.

Kon set his mug down on one of the two small wrought iron patio tables and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I knew I should have kicked off the mud, but I was just _cold_ , you know? I wanted to get _inside._ ”

“I brought you here so you and I could _relax_ , Kon. So relax.”

“I just kind of want to get asked back, Tim. I’ve never been anywhere as nice as this before.  It’s awesome.”

Tim smiled at Kon’s obvious discomfort. “Dude, even if Alfred hated you, he wouldn’t stop me from inviting you back.”

Kon raised his eyebrows and leaned back against the door to the patio.  “So he hates me now?”

Tim rolled his eyes and smiled wider. “No.  I think it’s kind of impossible to make Alfred feel that strongly about _anything_ that fast. You’d have to kill me if you wanted to do that. And even then he might only strongly dislike you.”

“Note to self, refrain from killing Tim this weekend.”

Tim brought a hand to his chest in mock shock. “Note to Kon, refrain from killing Tim forever!”

Kon smirked.  “Note to Tim, stop being such a smartass about everything, and then maybe I’ll consider that.”

Tim walked closer to Kon and waggled his eyebrows conspiratorially.  He couldn’t help play flirting with Kon; he really couldn’t.  “Will you spare me if I let you in on the secret to getting on Alfred’s good side?”

Kon leaned closer to Tim, as if listening to a secret.  “Sure, if it works.”

“In an hour or so, at dinner, tell him the food is the _best food you’ve ever had_.”

“That’s it?”

“No. Also, after dinner, _insist_ on helping him clean the dishes.  Don’t take no for an answer.  He’ll try to convince you that washing the dishes is his job. Don’t let him win. He’ll relent eventually.”

Kon laughed. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Tim grinned. “Be really Kansan and charming. Say ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir’ and ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘golly gee’ and whatever other cute shit you farm boys say.”

“I know a lot of farm boys,” Kon said, pursing his lips at Tim, “and none of them say _golly gee_.”

“Shhh! Don’t say that! I have this idealized version of Kansas in my head and I don’t want it ruined!”

Kon reached for his hot chocolate mug with one hand and put the other one on his hip.  “What’s in this ‘Idealized Version of Kansas’?”

“I don’t know…” Tim shrugged and stared up at the colorful ivy crawling up the side of the manor.  “Everyone is either a pretty, sweet farm girl or a strong, strapping farm boy.  Everyone has manners and calls their parents ‘Ma’ and ‘Pa,’ and absolutely _everyone_ drives a tractor.  Oh! And no one swears.  F-bombs are strictly forbidden.”

When Tim glanced back down at Kon, his friend looked alarmed.  “Tim,” Kon addressed in a low, stern voice, causing another thrill of electricity to course through Tim’s veins, unbidden.  “Have you fucking _met_ me?”

Tim ignored his body’s odd reaction to the way Kon said his name and said, “Yeah, and you’re a huge disappoin—”

“Be quiet for a sec.”  Kon threw a big hand over Tim’s mouth so quickly and forcefully that Tim almost fell backwards.  Kon’s brow was furrowed, and his blue eyes were moving all around, obviously searching for something as he set down his mug again.  Tim ignored the impulse to scold his friend for almost taking his head off with his stupid, Kryptonian hand and instead pricked his ears to listen for what Kon had heard.

It didn’t take long to hear it.  A hurried, muffled shushing noise came from the open window on the second floor of the house, almost directly above them. It wasn’t an “Alfred” sort of noise.

Kon slowly removed his hand from Tim’s mouth. “ _Did you hear that?_ ” he mouthed, staring at Tim intently.

Tim nodded.  He probably couldn’t hear as much as Kon could hear, but if it wasn’t Alfred, then it was someone who wasn’t supposed to be at the house. People didn’t just get to waltz into Wayne Manor uninvited.  Whoever had made that noise upstairs had to be found, _now_.

Tim turned away from Kon and walked determinedly over to the ivy that grew on the walls of the manor.  He didn’t need his Red Robin costume to help him scale the walls of _this_ house.  He would do it on his own, before the intruder had the sense to run or hide. 

He reached up and grabbed his first handful of thick twisty stems and hauled himself up.  The ivy held his weight perfectly as he knew it would.  It didn’t take him too much time or effort to get halfway between the stories of the house.  It was then that Kon tapped him on the shoulder.

Tim looked over to see his friend hovering next to him, shaking his head and holding out his hands.  _“Tim, stop_ ,” he mouthed, his eyes a little frantic.

Tim narrowed his eyes.  It _would_ be easier if Kon carried him, but…  “ _Secret Identity!”_ Tim mouthed back. If Kon wanted to play fast and loose with his secret identity, that was fine, but Bruce would have his neck if super-powered people were seen playing all around Wayne Manor. It was too conspicuous.

He turned his eyes back to the ivy in front of him. Kon tried to grab his shoulder, but Tim shook him off. “Wait on the patio, Kon,” he whispered under his breath, knowing that his friend would hear him. He felt his friend’s eyes burning into him (not literally) as he continued climbing, but other than that, Kon didn’t try to bother him.

As he reached higher and higher on the ivy, Tim could make out more of the noises that were issuing from the window. At first, he could only hear shushing, followed by indecipherable, deep-voiced murmurs.  Later, however, Tim was able to hear huffs of breath, and little noises of exertion. Was someone actually trying to _steal_ from Wayne Manor?  How were they planning to get something heavy out of the second floor and away from the grounds without being spotted?

It was only as he pulled himself up onto the stone window-ledge that Tim received the final clue, the final, necessary hint that let him know that he had just climbed himself into a shitstorm.

It was a groan. Not of exertion but of _pleasure_ , and it was too late, Tim’s eyes were already fixed on the person who had made the noise—and that person was _Clark Kent_.

Mixed with the initial confusion of why Clark Kent was moaning in ecstasy in his house was the thought that _Clark looked good_.  His head was tilted back onto a pillow, and his sparkling blue eyes were pinched shut, showing off his long, coal-black eyelashes.  His normally coifed black curls were in sweaty disarray, like someone had run their hands through them time and time again.

Clark’s back arched off what Tim realized was the bed in the Manor’s master suite, and it was only then that Tim realized that Clark must be _naked_. Because of the angle of the window ledge, Tim could only see Clark from his chest up, but even with the limited range of vision, the view was a good one. Clark’s body looked like it was sculpted from marble—all of him was made of hard, firm muscle, but at the same time, his skin was flawless.  There were no bumps or blemishes or scars to mar his body, even though he had probably been in more fights than he could count.

Clark moved his hands from somewhere below his waist to the sheets on either side of him, and let loose a gasping noise as his eyes cracked open and his lips parted deliciously so he could gaze heatedly at whatever was going on just out of Tim’s line of sight.  Tim felt his cheeks burn.  _“Whatever was happening_ ” his ass—Tim knew _exactly_ what was happening. Clark Kent was having sheet-gripping, toe-curling, gasp-inducing sex in the master suite of Wayne Manor, only, Tim still hadn’t caught a glimpse of his partner...

They say that when you solve a mystery, it doesn’t feel like “discovery,” but more like “memory.”  The pieces of the puzzle come together in such a way so that the detective doesn’t feel like he has a novel, inventive thought, but more as though something he has always known has wormed its way to the surface, connecting all the dots with only the simplest lines.

_Bruce_ was supposed to be dealing with something in Metropolis.  The master suite was _Bruce_ ’s bedroom.  And that deep-voiced whisper sounded a lot like—

_Bruce_ crawled up over Clark’s body, his head and shoulders entering into Tim’s field of vision. His dark eyes focused on the dazed, heated blue eyes of the man he was climbing on top of; his lips were slick with saliva. The scarred muscles of the bicep closest to Tim flexed as a hand that was still out of view did _something_ …

Clark’s face contorted in a way Tim would never have imagined—turning from something heated and sexy and _strong_ into something passive, vulnerable, _overwhelmed_.  Clark let out another guttural moan, Bruce let out a satisfied little “hnn,” between pleased, smirking lips, and that was when the truth of the shocking images before him finally occurred to Tim.

_Batman and Superman are banging.  I, Tim Drake, am **watching** Batman and Superman bang. I, Tim Drake, am **watching** my adoptive **father** bang Superman._

All of a sudden, the cold, stone window ledge felt like metal sitting in direct sunlight during a hot day in summer _._ Tim let go in shock and fell backwards into the empty space over the patio.  He wasn’t too afraid though.  He landed quickly with a _whump_ in his best friend’s arms before he even had time to close his eyes.

“ _I tried to tell you!”_ Kon mouthed with wide eyes as Tim reached his hands to cover his own eyes in horror. 

“Just get us out of here!” Tim whispered quickly.

Kon didn’t have to be told twice—he zipped them away from the patio and to the other side of the manor faster than you could say “speeding bullet.”

 

***

 

Kon opened the door to the balcony off of Tim's room with near-explosive force and tossed Tim unceremoniously onto his four-poster bed.  
  
"I tried to tell you!" Kon whisper-shouted, a huge mocking smile on his face. "I _tried_ to tell you, Tim!"  
  
"You could’ve tried a little harder!" Tim whispered harshly back. It was unlikely that Clark would hear them given what he was currently... _experiencing_ , but super-hearing was super-hearing, and you could never be too careful. "Don't make excuses, Kon! You could have pulled me down from the wall if you _really_ wanted to! But you didn't! You don't know what I saw!"  
  
"I have a _pretty good idea_ of what you saw. I heard it all. And for your information, I didn't stop you because I didn't want to give us away." Kon strode over to the bed to smirk at Tim a little maliciously. "Or did you _want_ Batman to know that you were playing Peeping Tim?"  
  
"Peepi—oh my God..." Tim croaked in embarrassment as he covered his eyes with his hands. It didn't help—the look on Clark's face was practically seared into his retinas.  Bruce and Clark were so _hot_! How could people even _be that hot?_  
  
"Dude," Kon addressed after a moment, his tone even more playful than before. Tim peeked through his fingers to watch his friend sit down next to him on the navy duvet. "I can't believe you watched them for that long. You were there for like five whole seconds before you let go of the ledge."  
  
Tim's face heated up, and he closed his fingers together over his eyes again so he could no longer see. "I couldn't process what I was looking at, okay? It was physically impossible for me to put two and two together."  
  
"After what I heard, I thought you'd figure it out, like, immediately," Kon said beside him. "Didn't you hear it too? Once you got closer? I honestly thought you'd figure it out before you saw anything."  
  
"I heard little gasps and moans and stuff, but..."  
  
"You heard the gasps? And the moans? What did you _think_ was happening?!"  
  
Tim peeked over at Kon through his fingers again. "...Moving furniture?"  
  
Kon stared for a beat, and then burst out laughing, his back falling down next to Tim's head. Tim's heart was pumping fast again, but not because of humiliation.  
  
"Only you, Tim!" Kon laughed, clutching his sides. “Only you would overcomplicate gasps and moans like that. Sometimes things are _exactly_ what they sound like, you know!"  
  
Tim grabbed a pillow from his right and flung it across his body so that it hit Kon in the face. "Thank you, Kon, for that brilliant lesson in deduction."  
  
Kon didn't seem to mind the pillow because he was still chuckling. "Someone had to tell you, since your other teacher's mouth is otherwise occupied."  
  
"Gross!" Tim shouted, his embarrassment now completely replaced by disgust.  
  
" _Clark_ didn't sound like he thought it was gross," Kon said with mock-thoughtfulness, though he was unable to hide his smirk.  
  
"I meant 'gross' those two men are our _dads_."  
  
"No they aren't," Kon smiled. "Not really, anyway."  
  
Tim looked up at the ceiling above his bed and considered. It was still kind of weird to have seen what he had seen, but Bruce was more like a caring boss than his father. And Clark wasn't even _that_ to Kon.  
  
"So," Tim said playfully. "If they're not really our dads, does that mean you're _not_ going to be my brother?"  
  
The pillow he had thrown at Kon came down on Tim's face with a _whump_. "Now _that's_ gross," Kon said from beside him.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Tim peeked over at Kon again, now that they were both a little calmer and not so horrifically panicked and embarrassed.  Kon was staring up at the ceiling above them, just like Tim had been, and Tim couldn’t help but draw a comparison between Kon’s eyes and the eyes he had seen just a few minutes ago. Both sets were an electric, inhuman blue, and the same thick coal-black lashes framed the color dramatically.  Tim frowned, frustrated.  Kon was startlingly pretty.  Tim wondered what Kon’s eyes would look like closed so tightly with pleasure that it could almost be mistaken for pain, like the expression on Clark’s—

“Tim?”

Tim blinked rapidly, trying to pretend he hadn’t been staring at Kon and again attempting to dispel a naughty thought from his brain.  “What’s up?”

“What was it, exactly, that you saw?” 

Tim coughed and looked away from Kon. He couldn’t look him in the eyes and think about seeing Clark at the same time. It made him feel too hot. “I thought you knew what I saw.”

“Well, I got the gist of it, but I didn’t _see_.” Tim could feel Kon’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head.

“I couldn’t see everything, thankfully,” Tim said, staring back up at the ceiling.  “But the first thing I could see was Clark. He was lying on his back, and he, uh, looked like…he was having a great time.”

Kon chuckled. “That’s a really _vague_ description.  Stop being so embarrassed, bro!”  Tim felt Kon give him a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “Did it look hot?”

“Kon!” Tim shouted, turning to look at Kon on the bed again.  He hated how scandalized he was feeling while Kon just looked like they had just seen a couple chastely kissing in the park, or something.  

Kon just laughed.  “It’s a natural question! Those are maybe the two most powerful men in the world, Tim, and they’re _fucking_. As we _speak_.”

For some reason, _that_ resonated with Tim, and his discomfort started to dissipate. “That’s exactly why I didn’t look away immediately, I think,” he said quickly, rolling over onto his front so he could see Kon better.  “Like, Clark usually looks so _firm,_ you know? Even when he’s _smiling_ he looks composed.  That’s why I was like, _who is_ doing _this to him_?”

“What did his face look like?” Kon asked curiously, his eyebrows shooting up on his head.

Tim felt his cheeks turn pink, thinking about Clark. “Oh, I don’t know.  All broken and stuff, like,” Tim screwed up his eyebrows so they pulled up and together on his face, tilted his head back, pinched his eyes shut, and let his jaw go slack, imitating Clark’s expression.  “Something like that, probably,” Tim said quietly as he opened his eyes.

“Jesus, Tim,” Kon said hoarsely.

“I know. It was something else,” Tim said quickly, feeling a little hot and embarrassed, wondering what, if anything, Kon thought about seeing his face like that. “And his body, was like _whoa_ , you know? It was _perfect_.”

“Did you see Batman? Or were your eyes glued to Clark the whole time?” Kon teased.

Tim shot Kon a nasty look, but said, “at first, I couldn’t see him, but when he popped into view—it was like, I wouldn’t have known him if he had been wearing that face anywhere else.  I freaked out.”  The lupine grin on Bruce’s face had been totally hot, but Tim would never say those words to _anyone_ , not even Kon, even if he really wanted to see what Kon looked like crawling around like Bruce was.

“You would have freaked out even more if you had been able to hear what he was saying,” Kon said, raising a dark eyebrow.

“Oh God,” Tim rolled over buried his face in his comforter, his face heating up again.  His days of feeling second-hand embarrassment for “Brucie” Wayne were long over, but something told him that Bruce fucking Clark was anything but an act. “What did he say?”

“Are you sure you want to know?  I’m not sure that I want your pure ears to hear the dirty words I heard!”

“Shut up and tell me!” Tim yelled into his blankets, feeling hot and kind of hoping Kon would bodily roll him over to look in his face.

“Should I shut up? Or tell you?” Kon laughed, putting a big hand in Tim’s hair and mussing it around.  Tim’s body was just growing hotter and hotter over the length of this conversation, and he really, really wanted to take it out on Kon. “Make up your mind!”

“Just tell me, stupid!” Tim shouted, grabbing the pillow for the second time and slamming it into Kon’s chest, causing Kon to bust out laughing.  “And you accuse _me_ of being a smartass…”

“Okay, okay,” Kon started.  “He was _very quiet_ , and it was happening, like, when we were down on the patio so there’s _no way_ you could have heard him say this, but he was like…” Kon stopped smiling, composing himself. He straightened his back and then glared at Tim out from under his dark brows, adopting his best Batman impression.  “‘You know much I love making you _moan_ , Clark, but you have to be quiet this time,’” Kon said in a low tone, speaking slowly, his voice rolling over the words.  His lips curled up into a dangerous smirk halfway through, and Tim didn’t even hear the rest of the examples—he was too focused on not showing how turned on he was on his face.

“Damn Bruce,” Tim managed to laugh out after it looked like Kon was done talking.

“Yeah, I know.  It was _super_ hot. It sounds like you thought Clark was the sexy one, but for me it was _definitely_ Bruce.”

“I mean that’s only natural, right?” Tim asked.  It wasn’t like Kon was going to think _Clark_ was the sexiest man alive.  That was a little _too_ weird for him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Tim rolled over onto his back and looked up at Kon again.  He had been hoping for a relaxing weekend, not filled with excitement, but with contentment and maybe a little bit of best bro bonding time, but he would be really, truly lying to himself if he said that he didn’t want to feel _exhilarated_ right now, like how it felt when Kon took him flying; he also couldn’t deny that the way he wanted Kon to touch him at the moment didn’t exactly say “best bro.”

In their momentary silence, the atmosphere in the room had switched from being comfortable to being tense, at least from Tim’s perspective.  He just wished there was a way to suss out what Kon was feeling without being _too_ awkward.  Kon couldn’t react _too_ strangely, right? This conversation topic was Kon’s idea after all, and it was weird enough.

As he was looking up at Kon, Kon looked right back down at him, and Tim was reminded of how similar their situation was to Bruce and Clark. Two black-haired, in shape guys in a bedroom. Both superheroes. Both with super-secret identities. One Kryptonian. One Gothamite.  One superpowered.  One super-smart (even if he did say so himself).  They were just younger versions of the two men having unslakable sex on the other side of the house, only with less repressed sexual desire and secrets, which gave him an idea…

He wanted exhilaration? There’s nothing more exhilarating than making the first move.

“So…are you actually disappointed you didn’t get to see them?”  Tim asked, his voice quieter than it had been.  He looked Kon dead in the eye, trying to swallow his fear and self-consciousness.

Kon, quirking his head curiously, seemed to sense the change and Tim’s disposition. “Sure…” he said slowly, not breaking eye-contact with Tim.  “Like, I wouldn’t have wanted to have watched the whole thing, but…a little would have been good.”

“Well, since I got such an eyeful, I could, um, _show_ you what they were doing,” Tim did his best to put just enough playfulness in his voice to give Kon an out if he wanted it.  “You know…if you wanted.”

There was a moment of tense silence as Kon’s eyes widened in surprise and Tim tried not to freak out completely as realization washed over Kon’s face like a tidal wave.  Not a single one of Kon’s features was untouched by astonishment, and for the first time, Tim wished that he and Kon maybe _weren’t_ running on the same wavelength all the time.  He wished he didn’t know that Kon was absolutely, positively thinking something incredibly close or identical to “holy _shit_!” 

Kon’s eyes were still wide with disbelief as he said, “Do you mean, like how they recreate those stories on true crime shows?”

Tim felt confused but encouraged.  Kon’s reaction could have been much worse. “You mean like, dramatic reenactments?” Tim asked, a little uncertainly.  Kon’s expression still read “shock,” but he also hadn’t broken eye contact.

“Yeah those,” Kon nodded, his eyes still big. Tim realized that he might actually be _nervous_.  It wasn’t an expression that he got to see on Kon’s face very often at all.  “You want to show me by doing one of those?”

“Sure,” Tim said, a little hesitantly, his playful smile faltering a bit.  He couldn’t believe he was about to say this, but  “Do you want me to, uh, play Bruce?”

It was like Kon had finally woken up. The disbelieving expression on Kon’s face positively dissolved—his eyes narrowed, his brow lowered, and he smirked as he looked down at Tim.  “No,” he said definitively. “ _I’ll_ be Bruce. You can be Clark.”  He smiled wolfishly again. “You know, since we’re both already in character.”

Tim blushed, remembering his imitations of Clark’s rapturous expression, but he could already feel heat moving towards his groin. He was a little embarrassed, but he was also buzzing with excitement, and, if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t have played this any better if he had weeks to prepare. “Right then,” he said, grabbing his pillow and scooting up to lay down at the head of the bed, like where Clark had been.  “Let’s do this.”

Kon stood up and marched over to the foot of Tim’s bed, and then looked at Tim expectantly, waiting for directions.

“So Clark, was sort of lying like this,” Tim said, tossing his head back onto his pillow and bringing his knees up off the bed so they were spread a little wider than shoulder-width apart.  “And Bruce—”

“Was Clark wearing a shirt?”  Kon interrupted, leaning closer to the bed and wrapping a big hand around the bottom-left post.

“Erm, no,” Tim admitted, his heart pounding twice as fast all of a sudden.  “Should I take off my sweater?”

“We should make this as accurate as possible, don’t you think?” Kon smirked, and again Tim wished he felt half as confident as his friend looked.  He’d be damned if he chickened out now though, so he curled his fingers around the neck of his thick, cable-knit sweater and tugged it over his head, the soft cashmere sliding over bare skin.

“Better?” Tim asked, smiling now.

“Much,” Kon nodded.  He had already shed the leather jacket he had been wearing earlier, and was now working on the buttons of his flannel shirt.

“Come here,” Tim said before he could stop himself. He sat up from the pillow and motioned to Kon.

“Huh?”

“I, uh, think Clark would have wanted to take Bruce’s shirt off for him,” Tim said lamely.

Kon just laughed and cocked an eyebrow. “You think so, do you?” He might have thought it was funny, but Kon didn’t hesitate.  He walked up to Tim’s side of the bed, and Tim swung his legs over the side so that he could sit up straight and focus on calming his shaking fingers.

Tim looked up at Kon as he grabbed his shirt just a little roughly and popped open the first button of Kon’s thick red flannel, causing Kon to laugh a little breathlessly.  “Oh, ‘ _Bruce_ ,’” Tim cooed jokingly, feeling really dirty invoking that name but also really, _really_ excited. “Hold still, or I might accidentally rip your shirt with my _super-strength_!”

Kon tossed his head back and laughed as Tim undid the last button on the flannel.  “Don’t worry, ‘ _Clark_ ,’” he growled, grinning as he shrugged off the button-down shirt and helping Tim remove the white tank top he wore underneath it.  “ _I_ think your super-strength is really fucking hot.” 

Kon finished pulling the ribbed tank top over his wavy black hair, and Tim had to agree with “Bruce”—super-strength _was_ really fucking hot.  Kon’s body was as spotless as Clark’s, without any blemishes or scars or odd marks, and of course, Kon had a great physique.  The way his muscles played under his skin as he threw his tank top to the floor took Tim’s breath away. It wasn’t like Tim hadn’t seen Kon shirtless before, but it felt different knowing that Kon was _showing_ him, rather than Tim just getting a passing glance. 

Tim rolled back onto the bed and let his head drop onto the pillow again, still playing along with the idea that this was just them playing “Horny Dads” and not them actually hooking up.  His pants were starting to feel a little tight, and he closed his eyes to try to keep everything under control.

“Now where do you want me?” Kon asked, his chest expanding and contracting a little more than was strictly necessary for their current level of activity.

“I think…Bruce had crawled up over Clark from the foot of the bed,” Tim said, tilting his chin into his chest to he could watch. Kon just smiled, turned his back on Tim and walked towards the end of the bed, playfully swinging around one of the posts and launching himself onto the mattress with enough force to cause it to squeak.

“’Bruce!’” Tim laughed, his head flopping back into his cushy pillow again.  “You’re acting particularly flamboyant this afternoon!”  Tim actually giggled, imagining the caped crusader swinging around the post of his bed like a pole dancer, until Kon placed a firm hand on the bare skin just above his hip, causing his breath to hitch.

“What can I say,” Kon growled, batman-like, from over him.  “You’re so hot that you make me want to show off.” Kon said it with enough sincerity that it made Tim feel even hotter than he had felt a second before, and he had to look away from Kon, whose eyes were burning into him for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

“’ _Clark_ ,’” Kon murmured, crawling up close enough to Tim’s face that Tim could feel Kon’s breath on his neck.  “I’ve _always_ wanted to play with your hair.  It’s so nice…” Tim felt Kon’s fingers running through his hair, and now he wasn’t even trying to hide how he was feeling anymore since there was no way either of them would have gone this far for something as stupid as the pretense it had started under.

If Kon could touch Tim’s hair, then Tim didn’t see why he couldn’t touch Kon where _he_ wanted. He reached his shaking hands up to grasp Kon’s strong shoulders, his right hand traveling up the side of Kon’s neck to gently play with the earring in the cartilage of Kon’s left ear. “Ko—I mean, ‘ _Bruce!_ ’” Tim laughed when Kon leaned into the touch.  “I didn’t know your ears were pierced!” Kon let out another breathless little laugh—it was quickly becoming one of Tim’s favorite sounds—and pulled on Tim’s hair, making Tim gasp at the sudden intensity of the feeling.

“We playboy billionaires can do whatever we want, apparently,’” Kon chuckled.  “Like pierce our ears, or tell our sons that we’re gonna be gone for the weekend and then bring our alien boyfriend back to our ridiculously large estate that’s _definitely_ not hiding a secret hideout or anything…” Tim’s face heated up, and he laughed out loud as Kon buried his face into the crook of Tim’s neck and blew a big fat raspberry into the space below Tim’s ear.

“I’m pretty sure you’re getting a little out of character there, ‘ _Bruce_ ,’” Tim scolded, moving his hand up into the short hair on the back of Kon’s neck.

“I totally did this earlier ‘ _Clark_ ,’” Kon said, trying to growl menacingly but failing because he sounded a little too happy.  “You were probably just so overcome by how sexy I was...”

“You mean when your hair was sticking up all over the place from your flight over?”

“Hmm…I think you’re mistaken,” Kon purred. “I _always_ look dangerous and suave, Clark. Could you be thinking of someone else? You shouldn’t think about anyone else when you’re with me.”  The hand on Tim’s hip gripped Tim tighter, and Tim gave a sharp little intake of breath, which made Kon smile devilishly.  “You know how I _love_ making you _moan_ , ‘ _Clark_ ,’” Kon said, turning the line from earlier while trying not to laugh.

Tim couldn’t help himself—he covered his eyes and busted out laughing so hard that he had to grip Kon’s shoulder tighter. Somehow, it didn’t break the mood—it only heightened it. Maybe Bruce and Clark could be all about heated looks and glares and gasps, but Kon was Tim’s best friend, and he was still the person who made Tim feel the most comfortable, who he could be himself around, who he could laugh with.  “Okay! Stop! You might be getting a little too _in_ character now,” he gasped between laughs.

“Oh _man_ ,” Kon complained jokingly.  “I was really enjoying doing the batman voice.”

“You’re surprisingly good at ‘Dirty-Talk Bruce,’” Tim quipped.

“Thanks,” Kon grinned. “You made a great Clark.”

Tim smiled up at Kon disbelievingly. “Did I though?” He asked, quirking his head. They both looked at each other for a moment and then busted out laughing again for what seemed like the twelfth time since they got to Tim’s room. “This is so stupid,” Tim said, removing his hands from Kon’s back and placing them over his eyes again.

Kon laughed too. “You’re right. This is really dumb.”

“Just so you know, I would have wanted to do this if we hadn’t seen Bruce and Clark do it,” Tim admitted, vulnerability causing a thrill of adrenaline to run through him, more powerful than any he had felt earlier today.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you run down the stairs this afternoon in your stupid socks,” Kon said, wrapping a strand of Tim’s hair around his finger.

Tim smiled big.  _Really?_ “I’ve wanted to do this for _months_ ,” He said it a little too exuberantly, the honesty of the moment intoxicating him, and he immediately felt flushed because of his own unexpected straightforwardness.  

“Have you?” Kon widened his eyes and laughed again. “I have too.”  They looked at each other for another long moment, and Tim thought he might even manage to be happy just like this, looking into Kon’s eyes and not feeling uncertainty or unnamed unrequited feelings but just feeling accepted and coveted and loved.

“Can I kiss you now?” Kon asked, his electrifying gaze flickering to Tim’s lips and his mouth already moving towards its destination.

Tim looked at Kon’s lips and felt so happy that he couldn’t help but smile. “Duh,” he grinned, and then his eyes were closing and he could feel Kon’s soft hair on his forehead and then Kon’s full, slightly chapped lips were playing ever so lightly on his mouth and Tim thought he had never been happier.

Tim shifted his head slightly to the left to make more room for Kon’s head and snaked his arms up back around Kon’s neck, crossing his wrists over Kon’s spine.  He sighed and smiled as Kon broke the kiss and quickly returned to lean forward and suck lightly on Tim’s bottom lip.  Tim’s whole body was growing hotter, and even though he thought this sweet controlled stuff was very nice, he wasn’t happy with it staying that way.

Using all of his strength, Tim pushed Kon over onto his back and took Kon’s old position on top, leaning in before Kon could stop him so that he could kiss the bare skin on Kon’s clavicle and trail sweet, sucking kisses up over the side of Kon’s neck.

Kon laughed lightly again (and again another delighted thrill of adrenaline pulsed from Tim’s heart) and said “I’m not gonna say that I’ve thought about this, but…”

“Don’t worry, bro,” Tim said, feeling a little bit ridiculous using the word at a time like this, but what else was he going to call Kon? _Babe?_ “I’ve thought about it too.” Then, mustering all his courage, he did what he had dreamed of doing approximately seven hundred times before this moment—he kissed Kon full on the lips, opening his mouth to gently lick Kon’s bottom lip.

Kon opened up for him immediately and squeezed his arms around Tim (maybe just a little too tightly, but not spine-breakingly so) and pressed their bodies together.  It was clear that this was neither of their first kiss. By all rights, it didn’t even feel like theirfirst kiss _together_.

Maybe it was because Tim was in his favorite place, at his favorite time of year, on his favorite sheets, with his favorite things all around him.  Maybe it was just because Kon was his favorite _person_ , or maybe it was a combination of _all_ of those things, but Tim was just so comfortable, so at home with Kon, that it felt like they had been kissing the whole time they had known each other.

Tim tasted the inside of Kon’s mouth while Kon moved at hand from Tim’s back to the side of his face and up into his long hair. Tim probably didn’t need to tell Kon how aroused he was feeling, since Kon could probably feel it on where Tim was perched above his lower stomach, but for once, Tim wasn’t too anxious about that.  Considering the way Kon’s breath was coming faster and the way his hand was tangled up and pulling and pressing and twisting on Tim’s scalp and through his hair, Kon was feeling similarly. 

Tim had a sudden desire to see Kon for himself, so he sucked on Kon’s lip one last time and started to trail kisses down Kon’s neck and down over Kon’s throat.  Tim was rewarded with a little hair pulling and a low grown as Tim nibbled on the bone of Kon’s shoulder blade, so he continued to kiss and suck and bite a trail down Kon’s firm chest and stomach all the way to the hemline of his jeans.

“I’m not so sure you want to do that right now,” Kon said a little throatily.  His eyes were half-lidded, but there was still a warning in them.

“Huh?”  Tim asked, dazed.  If their roles were reversed, he’d definitely have wanted what he was about to do to Kon, so what was wrong?  “Don’t be scared, Kon.  I definitely want to suc—”

There was a knock on the door, but thankfully, _mercifully,_ it didn’t open. “Master Tim?  Master…Conner?” Came Alfred’s voice from the hallway. Tim stared at Kon with wide eyes, and Kon was already trying not to laugh. “Dinner will be served in about five minutes,” Alfred announced with his usual formality.  “I’d advise you to pause whatever it is you’re doing until after you eat.”

The two of them snickered as they heard the footsteps move down the hallway, and after a beat Tim asked.  “Do you think he _knew_?”

“I don’t know!” Kon laughed.  “Would I still be able to fix it by washing some dishes? Do we have to eat?  I _really_ wish you didn’t have to ‘pause.’”

Tim just laughed and rolled off of his best friend, already missing the warmth of being so close to him.  As he went to find his sweater, he noticed the sun was already setting orange over the autumn trees outside. Another day was over, and winter was another day closer.  The leaves were another day closer to being dead and brown and gone from the trees. The temperature was another day closer to blizzards and ice and bitterly cold winds.

“Hurry up over there, slowpoke!” Kon called, already dressed and looking in Tim’s mirror while desperately trying to make his finger-tousled hair lie flat.  Tim grinned.

Autumn was Tim’s favorite season because of how it suddenly appeared, and also because after a few, beautiful, glorious weeks, it disappeared just as quickly into the stark Gotham winter. Tim thought that there was a fragile beauty in ephemera, and unexpected surprises were nice, but he also thought that it might be better when things _didn’t_ have an expiration date. 

He and Kon had the whole weekend.  He and Kon had more than that.  They might have been interrupted this time around, but they had  _plenty_ of time.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this was just what you would call "spicy" and not what you would call "disturbing"! I just love this pairing so much, and I wanted to highlight the ways that they're different from Superbat (which I also love A LOT.)
> 
> Happy TimKon Week to anyone who decides to read this! Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
